Crossroads
by harunalyra
Summary: Eight years later, a very different Sarah finds a new path to the Labyrinth and realizes that nothing there was ever what it seemed. -- Rated for a little language, adult situations and a general all-around darkness ... But, please, give it a try!
1. Prologue

Standard Disclaimer: "Labyrinth" and all its characters belong to Henson, Froud, et. al., and certainly not to me. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think! (Unless you absolutely hate it; then you don't have to bother, really.)

**_Crossroads_**

**Prologue **

         When it all had first started, her third year in college, she had tried telling friends about it, to ask their advice, or maybe just to get the crushing weight off her chest. Then she had started visiting a psychiatrist, hoping that perhaps a professional would know how to sort through the confusion to find something that made sense, to look for a way to cope with the dimness that suddenly loomed like a dispassionate shadow over everything she had once held dear. But she had stopped going, stopped saying anything to anyone, long ago. She felt that she was uselessly burdening them all. It wasn't that they didn't care — it was that they didn't understand.

         It was to be expected. She would have to tell them about her life, about her family, and a little light would go on behind their eyes and they would settle back comfortably in their chairs, happy that this whole thing had settled itself for them. "It's a grief reaction," they would tell her. "It's natural. It's part of the healing process."

         But Sarah knew that it was not natural. And she knew that she was not healing — the bleakness grew worse every day. But it was no use saying this, because she had no way of explaining it. So she would nod, and take the medication that didn't help, and try to bury herself in anything that would distract her from thinking at all. She managed to finish college somehow, superficially, as her grades plummeted and her dreams of an acting career faded away.

         She never went out anymore, it seemed. The endless round of bars and dance clubs that had so thrilled her in her early college days had become boring. She still liked movies and plays, little nuggets of escapism that they were, but they were a risk since they usually dredged up old dreams of her own misplaced acting career that consumed the rest of the evening in a deep melancholy. She had no interest in much of anything now, and the excitement-loving friends from her acting life had gradually drifted away. Now she got up every morning at an ungodly hour to drive the clogged half-hour to her miserable, dead-end desk job, and her days passed in a blur of paperwork and computer screens.

         The rest of the time, she read. Books were pretty much the only things she could enjoy without being threatened by social interaction, and so she read incessantly: on her lunch breaks, at stoplights, while eating dinner, in bed at night — and she read everything: mysteries, thrillers, science-fiction, nonfiction, history, even children's novels. Her only taboo was fantasy. It was too … vivid, and reminded Sarah of things she no longer wished to remember.

         All these other lives served as substitutes for her own. She knew this, and it was an acceptance that fundamentally seduced and scared her — that she could make this voluntary penance with so little regret. Looking at photographs of herself from bygone days was like looking into the life of a stranger. That girl with the sparkling eyes and the shining dark hair was someone else entirely — a play, like the plays with which she had filled so much of her life. The reality, the face that looked out from her mirror every morning, was gray all over, dull, washed out. Numb. It wasn't a matter of self-pity, or self-loathing. And she never bothered to imagine ending her life, because there was no need. She already felt as though she no longer existed.


	2. One

**One **

         Coming back from the city, through the countryside, where at night the world was a giant blank — and where anything could happen — the old Sarah would have loved it.

         The new Sarah was just scared.

         It was beautiful, all right, especially now, under the threat of a burgeoning storm. Lightning roiled in the distance, lighting up the branches of the oaks that spread across her path and sparkling on the river far ahead. The air smelled of fire and mist. But it was pitch black, and her back tire was nearly bald, and she had never gotten around to getting a cell phone. It was also the middle of the night. _Damn it. I'll never go to a late movie ever again._

         Still, something in her didn't mind being out here, in this electric wildness. All at once she didn't want to recall the dim, spartan one-bedroom apartment that awaited her. The humid scent of the trees filled her brain. A rare spark of rebellion flared — _No matter how dangerous, I'd rather be out here than at home … _She fiddled with the radio knobs, searching for something suitably moody that she could sing to, glancing up at the murky road as pulses of music filled the tiny car with human voices … And then lightning flashed with a sky-rending crack, and with it the nervousness returned, refreshed. With a shiver she snapped the radio off again and stared fixedly ahead into the storm, in silence.

         The trees lining the road waved a warning as she passed out of their shelter and onto the slow ascent of the causeway. The road was slick with rain and oil, and Sarah held the wheel firmly in both hands as she navigated around fallen branches. Above the sky was dismally blank — no stars on this cloudy night; in fact, rain threatened again any second. Her high beams struggled against the gloom. The shallow, swampy banks of the river beneath her were lost in shadow. If not for the road ahead of her, she could be convinced she was driving steadily off into absolute nothingness, that the world around her didn't exist. She almost wished it were so. 

         And at that moment her gaze caught upon a sight she had seen a thousand times before — yet which now, in her present mood, seemed completely new to her. 

         To the west, across the deepest part of the river, away from the city, away from the lights, there was a place where the dark of the sky was even darker, a mysterious patch of black where the pastures and the river and the sky mingled and ran together and became indistinguishable from one another. It was always an intriguing sight, that blackness, a one that put her in mind of looking into a past life of the river, long before the lights of the city sprang up on either side to encroach on its quiet mystery. But tonight … 

         Tonight, in the absence of stars, the black was unbearable. It was as though a giant, unearthly hand had ripped a hole right through the night sky, revealing something else entirely, a lightless beyond vast and unfathomable. Instead of a past bound by earth and time, Sarah imagined the hole opening up into a whole other world altogether, with the river flowing right into it to fall in a great cataract through a starless space. Clutching the steering wheel and craning her neck under the windshield, she couldn't help but stare as long as she could, hypnotized by the sight and by the starkness of her pure, cold vision against the fierce, earthy darkness of the stormy night.

         With a sigh, Sarah turned back — and the pair of glimmering eyes in the road locked with hers. In a great swerve she lost control on the wet pavement and the river came up to meet her — 

         She came to lying in a puddle of foul-smelling mud, just in time to see her car disappear into the muck beyond. A deep panic ripped through her, and in an instant she relived a night of horror three years buried … But she forced herself with extreme difficulty to breathe normally, and to feel carefully over her body, relieved to realize she was unhurt except for a coating of bruises and a faint, smelly film of rotted vegetation. A miserably warm rain began to fall.

         She rolled over and tried to stand, but collapsed. The rain made the stench stronger, but blessedly served to washing it off at the same time. _And remember, you've smelled worse bogs than this,_ she thought to herself with a humorless grin.

         To her right, rising above the night fog, was the embankment she had tumbled over, tire tracks in the crushed earth still describing her wild path. She crawled stiffly to its base. At the top would be the road, and even in this weather, someone would come by eventually. It was hard going, but inch by inch she pulled herself up the weedy ridge and finally emerged over the summit.

         There was no road.

         There was a valley. Surrounded by mountains.

         _Where no mountains had ever existed before._

         Astonished, Sarah lost her grip and slid nearly halfway back down the slope. _Okay,_ she thought to herself, clinging to a jutting root, _I'm just turned around. I'm just shook up. It must be something else. Let's see, river there — _She twisted painfully and was rewarded by the sight of that slender object in the near distance, gleaming brightly in the moonlight like a jeweled necklace carelessly tossed across the landscape. Directly below her lay its floodplain, a froth of bubbles and broken grass marking the spot where her old car now lay entombed in the murky silt of the river's edge. _Okay, that's the river, that's normal. But over th— _

         _Wait — Moonlight?_

         She craned her neck upward, ignoring the pain that shot through her shoulders. Where she had last seen nothing but storm on a darkly clouded night, there was now a sky filled to bursting with glittering stars. She realized belatedly that the rain had stopped, as well, and that the fog was gone. _Oh no … how long was I out?_

         Sarah decided not to think for a few minutes. She felt oddly peaceful as she lay gripping the hillside, resting her mind and body, finding herself mesmerized by the stars. She had never seen so many stars before in her life. Once, on a camping trip into the country when she was still quite little, she had sat up half the night on a rock outcropping in the close circle of her father's arms, gazing at the beauty of the night. They had not spoken for hours, the two of them, simply sat there equally awed by the majesty that stretched infinite and vast over their heads. But this, she realized, this seems somehow even fuller, clearer, than even that magical night. _I must be hallucinating, seeing double, she thought. Surely the universe could never be that big._

         And then there were the mountains. _Yes, I'm definitely hallucinating._ She began to panic and had let go of the root to climb back down to the level ground when she saw that behind all the alien stars, the impossible mountains, the hole in the sky was still there. 

         It had been mysterious enough seen from the bridge, a dim smudge in a cloudy ceiling — but in this night impossibly full of light, the contrast was even more incredible. Though all around her from horizon to horizon shone what seemed to be the combined cosmos of several universes, to the west it all ended abruptly in a modest but definite region of absolute nothingness. But now she realized with a shock that the blackness extended past the horizon — where there should have been trees around it, or a bend of the river, there was just … darkness. It looked like a black hole; a black hole that had fallen to rest on the earth, devoured all that ventured near, and waited now silently and eternally for another victim to wander too close.

         But yet … that couldn't be right. Its dark depths did not appear sinister or oppressive; instead, it seemed calm and soothing in its uniform darkness, an oasis of tranquility amidst the riot of light. Sarah could not pull her eyes away. The stars around her suddenly seemed harshly, unnaturally bright. She focused her gaze on the cool dark of the hole with an inexplicable but palpable sense of relief.

         It was as though without the balance of this darkness, the light would be too much to bear.

         She didn't realize she was walking toward it until she had already covered a good hundred feet. It was a shock. She was still stiff, but the pain and dizziness had faded. Shaking her head, she turned and plodded back to the ridge behind her, straining and hoping to see a gleam of headlights to appear over its top. Ignoring the mountaintops she saw looming beyond it.

         _Come on … there's got to be a car coming soon … _

         Which made it even stranger when she realized that her feet were wet; she was standing in the shallows of the river, even farther from the ridge, facing the hole again.

         She set out for the road, and succeeded only in soaking her jeans further, up to the knees this time. Frustration took over. _I give up. I 'm hurt. I'm tired. Forget the road. Just let me go … _

         Reason rallied. _But there's no road over there. Look, see the trees? There's just fields and woods and darkness. You'll get lost._

         _Well, there's no road back there, either. Just those horrible mountains. I'll never get home that way. I'll still be lost. It's impossible._

         _But this way is insane. No help, no way home. Not even any stars to light your path. Just _that_ thing … _

         _But I don't care … I don't care._

         Sarah silenced the thoughts with effort, with a voice a whisper in the silence. She took great care that it not shake. "I can't stay here, in the mud, and it's no use going back; there's nothing there. So it's ahead, then. I'm sure I'll run into a farmhouse or a ranch or something pretty soon." But she didn't say the rest. Not even to herself.

         She didn't want to go back, because she _wanted_ to go … _there._ Wherever it was. Into the dark. Somehow she felt she could feel safe there. This part of the world, like the part she had come from, had ceased to make sense. And she was suddenly very tired of dealing with it all.

         Barely aware that she was moving, Sarah set off for the black edge of the horizon, dim in the distance.

         She didn't find any farmhouses or ranches. She had never really expected to. But she had ceased to care, or to fear. She let go and let herself toward the darkness. It held steady before her, drawing her in. The trees closed about her for a little bit until she broke out into a starlit clearing, an endless smooth, colorless meadow that stretched on and on. She walked for what seemed hours, but the sun never rose; no dawn lightened the penetrating profusion of the stars. And at some point, one by one, fireflies began to appear from the shadows. They glided around her in waves, mirroring the waltz of the stars overhead. Disoriented, half-awake, Sarah felt as if she were whirling among them, moving forward but at the same time swirling backward, side to side, up, down, dancing among the stars — but always before her stretched that impenetrable corridor of dark, soothing in its stillness as the world fell down all around...

         Till one of the fireflies bit her.

         She snapped out of the dance, involuntarily swatting at the offender — which had a surprising weight. _That's a monster bug,_ she thought automatically, and looked down. The tiny creature sprawled at her feet had long red hair and wings as fine as gossamer. Sarah froze.

         "Oh, no," she groaned.

         The trance had been broken. Nothing was as she remembered it; even the mountains seemed to have shifted, spacing themselves out on either side of her path. Even as she realized how hopelessly lost she had become, she planted herself firmly on the plain, with the tallest mountains looming at her back, and defiantly faced the imperturbable black sky.

         _"Where are you?!"_

         The shouted words echoed in the stillness. The stars had stopped spinning.

         "Come out and show yourself!"

         The stars waited, breathless.

         "_Damn_ you, Jareth!"

         She stood for a long time on that soundless, worldless plain, hearing nothing but her own rigidly controlled breathing. Then she surprised herself:

         "Oh well," she conceded to the observant heavens, "what else is there to do?" And she trudged on into the starless west.


	3. Two

**Two**

         The stars had disappeared some time ago, fading out one by one, but she was still walking. A warm but otherworldly wind had come up from somewhere and she could hear the tall grass rustling around her, though she could no longer see it. She felt she was about to walk off of the face of the earth. _Earth?_ she wondered; _Is that even accurate anymore? Am I still anywhere near Earth? Is this another Earth? Two Earths … _

         She felt drowsy and at the same time, never so alert. The wind threaded carefully through the length of her hair, which tingled as though each strand were alive and filled with its own animated consciousness. Strangely, though she no longer felt entranced, Sarah still had no fear as she walked on through the dimness. She no longer cared where she ended up in this journey in the darkness, or whether it ever ended at all; it was enough to be here, in this simple, primeval place that didn't force her to think, react, or even see. It was solace to her battered soul.

         The wind twined about her, and there were words inside it, under it. In her mind there was a voice, distant as though welling up through worlds of space and time.

         _Everything you wanted I have done … I have turned the world upside down … and I have done it all for you..._

         The light came so gradually that she was unaware of it until she suddenly realized that she could see her surroundings again. She had just entered a clearing, seemingly in the middle of a dense, majestic forest. The air had the gray expectancy of twilight just before the dawn. She felt as though she were present at the dawning of time itself.

         The clearing had all the ethereal beauty of a fairy tale. A tiny stream burbled through one corner. The grass was springy and soft to her touch, and greener than any grass she had ever seen. The trees leaned over the glade like benevolent grandfathers, delicate, laughing wildflowers springing up among their roots for grandchildren. The very air felt cool and crystalline. It was all so sweet it was almost sticky. Peering into the dim forest, she half-expected a unicorn to walk out from within the dusk and say hello.

         It was all too much to assimilate. She realized she was exhausted, nearly asleep on her feet, and had begun to sway alarmingly. She lay down in the grass by the stream, past caring about unicorns or grandfather trees, or anything at all.

         She slept for a long time, feeling safe indeed in the cool embrace of the verdant copse, soft green light dappling her mossy bed with warmth and peace. When she awoke it was evening, the sun an hour or so from setting. Long crimson and gold shadows stretched across the clearing. She lounged on the bank of the stream for a while, watching the patterns of light dance in the grass. It occurred to her that she was not hungry.

         _How long was I walking? How far away from home am I?_

_         What happens now?_

         She felt rather than saw the light in the trees behind her, small and golden, wavering in the trees. She felt a little fear at first, but then it dissipated as she was overcome with the feeling that she knew whom this visitor was going to be.

         And it was.

         There he stood, resplendent.

         "Welcome, Sarah." His grin loomed over her even more than the misty grey cape or the shining, mismatched eyes.

         She had no mind for pleasantries. Her head was spinning at the sight of this man, a sight she had never expected to see again. Her words came so softly she wasn't sure they would even be heard.

         "What is this place?"

         "Why, this is the Labyrinth, of course."

         "But I haven't recognized anything."

         "Do you not remember how much the Labyrinth changed around you in thirteen hours? Well, in eight years it can change much, much more."

         "But where are all the people? Where is Hoggle, Ludo? Where is Sir Didymus? Where are all the goblins?"

         He did not answer her question, but merely said, "This Labyrinth can read your mind, Sarah. It will give you whatever you need or want."

         "It sure didn't do that the first time."

         He laughed, a sincerely enjoyable chuckle. "As you say."

         _Now, what did he mean by that?_ He was changing the subject. She didn't want riddles; she did want to find out about her friends. She had not seen them since that night of the last excursion to Jareth's realm, after which they had all appeared in her room and celebrated together until she had dropped asleep from pure fatigue. When she awoke, morning sun in her eyes, they were all gone. She had called and called, just like they had told her to do, but no one had never answered. It was her first bitter abandonment, and she had felt terrible over it until she had decided that it probably had something to do with the man standing before her, so, putting grief aside, she had resolved to confront him about it, if she was ever given the chance.

         But she couldn't. He looked at her and she quailed. Bile rose to her throat as she stood there, hating herself for her fear.

         And yet to her surprise she found herself asking him a question equally as incendiary.

         "Then why did you bring me back?"

         Jareth had been watching her quietly, almost amicably, all this time, but now his mood seemed to sadden under her suspicion. He sighed and turned, walking a little ways from her before replying. His voice sounded detached, as though he were telling a story to a stranger.

         "The first time I brought you to my Labyrinth, you had asked me to do so. You were expecting a challenge, an adventure just like one out of one of your storybooks, so I made everything in my world conform to your expectations. You wanted a threatening villain straight from a melodrama, so that is what I became for you … and, unknowing, you thought that is all that I could be. Although I tried to tell you, show you otherwise, as much as I could within the role you had cut out for me, you were mired in your preconceptions and would have none of it …"

         He turned towards her, lamplight reflecting in his eyes so that she could not read them. "But, Sarah, you did not understand the true nature of this Labyrinth. This time, my dear, you wished for an escape — so that is what it has become. You see, this place is formed for you, out of your own dreams and desires, and only you have the power to enter or leave it. I created it, but I cannot place you here. It was you who decided to come."

         "But you pulled me out of my own world! To the … the valley with the mountains!"

         "That place was merely a crossroads. If you had wanted to badly enough, you could have returned to your own place and time. But you chose to follow my path, instead."

         Sarah said nothing. Not that she exactly trusted him yet — for all she knew, he had more than a hand in forcing her off onto his "crossroads" — but she could not deny that she had certainly walked into the darkness of her own choice.

         Although now she couldn't remember quite why.

         He continued. "This haven was built on your dreams, Sarah, and no one can follow you here. You are safe from the world. You are finally safe from pain and betrayal."

         "But why did you do this?"

         Again he didn't answer her directly. He looked at her, but his voice was hard and seemed to be chastising her. "You are no longer a child. You have learned that to have happiness, you can't simply assume it will come to you and stay forever. If ever you are fortunate enough to come across it, you must grab on to it, and never let it out of your grasp."

         He whirled, his cape a blur of black mist. "And that, my dear, is the Secret of Life!" His face was closed again, his smile coolly taunting, eyes glittering. Now he looked the way she remembered him. Cruel, confident, frightening. Every inch the king.

         From deep inside somewhere, a vestigial memory of their last encounter, she remembered feeling anger against him. She re-experienced for just one moment the hot flare of determination. It struggled for dominance against the shadows … and sank down again, under the terrible weight of her dread.

         She didn't know why she suddenly wanted to cry so hard.

         Sarah thought a lot that night, alone in the dark. Jareth left her be, and not even goblins came to bother her, but it did not even occur to her to think that peculiar.

         At first she numbly raked over every detail of her meeting with the goblin king. It appeared that no matter how much time had passed, Jareth had retained the ability to scare her. But there were still a lot of missing pieces in the puzzle. The first time she had met him, he had stolen her brother, and she had risked his wrath to get Toby back. They had been absolute adversaries. Of course he had scared her. But she had beaten him. Now, however … what was the purpose of her being here? They were no longer rivals. There was no Toby to save. Why had he created for her a new Labyrinth, she, his worst enemy? _How_ had he done it? Something, or several somethings, were missing in the equation, and it unsettled her. What was his game this time?

         He had no power over her, wasn't that right?

         Then why was she worried?

         Sarah awakened this time from unpleasant dreams into the cool, clean damp of morning. An earthy aroma filled her head. Mist still clung to the edges of the forest, and the trees were unbearably green. The sun dappled them happily and the brook burbled gleefully. Fairies danced in the flowers. The clouds laughed. Something moved off in the distance. Sarah squinted. Yes. It _was_ a unicorn.

         "Okay, that's it," she sighed, exasperated. She picked herself up, took a deep draught from the brook, then stood and strode purposefully out of the glade without looking back.


	4. Three

**Three**

         She wandered. It may even have been in circles, but she just needed to know. She had to see for herself this new Labyrinth.

         The land she journeyed through now was bare and monotonous — tree after tree, then a field of rocks, then more trees, an occasional stream — except that every so often she would pass through a scene of unimaginable beauty: a clearing embracing a misty waterfall, a cliff overlooking a peaceful valley, a lakeside glinting with sun. But she didn't stop at any of them. Lovely as they were, there was something false about them; like the storybook conventions of the clearing, they seemed more like illusions than any of the fantastic, unprecedented things she had seen in the old Labyrinth.

         But for the faint rustle of the wind, it was utterly silent. She met no living creature other than the trees among which she moved. The unicorn had disappeared, along with the fairies, and the clearing seemed a world away. As she walked, no goblin soldiers accosted her; no irate labyrinthine denizens chased after her with sticks or popped through holes to ogle at her. No friends leaped out of hiding to welcome her back.

         She hadn't really expected them to. But part of her wanted to see Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus and even silly Ambrosius more than anything else in the world.

         _Hell, right now, I'd even welcome a dance with a Fiery._ Anything but this awful, phony, dead silence.

         Sarah felt a warm humming in her brain, like a faint and uncomfortable electrical current. She felt slack with dread, as she had back, way back, on the road, under the gathering lightning of the thunderstorm. She had no idea where this hike was leading, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She saw nothing that made her comfortable — and then, startled, wondered why she had expected to.

         _The Labyrinth isn't known for its comfort,_ she reasoned. _It's supposed to be weird and strange and confusing, so that I would never be able to find my way out._

         She paused under a wide, thick-barked tree to gather her thoughts. Another stream happened to be conveniently nearby, from which she drank gratefully, then sank wearily onto one of the tree's giant, agreeably flat roots. The view from this spot, a short stretch of hill blanketed with wildflowers, was pleasant and tranquil, and she felt herself relaxing.

         Then she bolted upright as she remembered her last words:

         _… never be able to find my way out._

         Sarah shivered. _Perhaps there are other ways to accomplish that end … _

         Sometime in the afternoon, she guessed, from the red sun hanging low in the sky — though time was pretty much impossible to follow in the Labyrinth — he appeared, as she had known he would. It was in a rocky niche beside an inexplicably tall cliff, and the way his presence filled the space left no doubt that he had chosen the position to his advantage.

         "So, Sarah, did you not like my little sylvan glade?"

         She instantly felt her body freeze, but she managed to hold on to the front of nonchalance she had studied back in the clearing and clung to like a lifeline on her lonely trek. "No, that's not it at all. It was quite beautiful. But come _on,_ Jareth, I'm not ten years old."

         He didn't seem hurt, but instead grinned widely. Quite a few teeth showed. "Ah, that's my girl. Then what do you now consider to be a more … _engaging_ fantasy world?"

         "Why do you want to know?"

         "Perhaps I am just … curious."

         "Perhaps I don't want to chat about my fantasies with you."

         "Perhaps."

         Silence. He hadn't stopped smiling, and it was unnerving.

         She squared her stance and looked at him, taking a very deep breath and hoping her fluttering heart didn't show. "What do you want, Jareth?"

         "Ah, now I want something."

         "You always want something." She felt herself go cold and clammy as she spoke, like a student mouthing back to a strict teacher and trying to sound unafraid in the face of a whipping. "Why the clearing? Why a Labyrinth like this? What is this leading to?"

         "The castle, of course. The Labyrinth always leads to my castle."

         "So it is about you, then. I'm supposed to find you."

         "Not necessarily. You were perfectly welcome to stay where you were — or where you are. It is your Labyrinth, Sarah; make your home where you like."

         "But why — "

         "You ask more questions than you were used to do." His flat tone indicated tacit disapproval.

         "That bothers you?" she immediately flung back. She had begun to feel as if she were floating.

         "Mind yourself, my dear. This new Labyrinth is not without its Bogs."

         _A-ha! A threat! _She glimpsed familiar ground now. "I thought this Labyrinth was my creation?"

         "And you do not have realms within yourself where a Bog of Eternal Stench could thrive?"

         It hit home more than she wanted him to know. "And how would you know?"

         He laughed delightedly. "Oh, everyone has their dark secrets, Sarah. And yours are closer to the surface than most."

         "Does this have a point?"

         "Only this." And he uncrossed his arms to hold a perfectly spherical crystal to her face. It was inches from her eyes, so that she had to look cross-eyed to see it clearly, but she could tell that it was perfectly smooth and flawless. Within it, half-formed images danced.

         "I know your dark spaces, and I know your light. I know what you want most. Why won't you accept it from me?"

         She looked away from the crystal into his expectant face. "Why do you keep insisting that will work? That you can just wave a beautiful thing in my face, or a beautiful place for that matter, and I will just drop down in joy and gratitude and be content for the rest of my days? I know that you have some ulterior motive. I know that it will have a price. Just tell me what you want, already."

         He tucked the crystal away somewhere in his cloak. "I am pained that you do not believe me. What reason have I given you to doubt me?"

         She laughed, a short, humorless bark. "My last visit ring a bell? You were going to turn my brother into a goblin, and me into a slave."

         "I did only that which you asked of me."

         His calmness annoyed her. "Yeah, right, sure. Well, you sure went to a lot of trouble. What would you get out of it? A new goblin and a happy little love-slave drooling after your every move. It can't have been that simple."

         She expected a repercussion any moment now. When it didn't come, the thoughts began spilling over themselves. She had thought long and hard in that silly clearing, and in the whole of her journey over this impossible land. It was now or never. _What have I got to lose?_

         "Ah, King Jareth," she declared, looking off over the horizon. "Master of a whole bunch of silly goblins and a handful of stolen babies. Surely you were satisfied? But no, you wanted more. Why not make a Labyrinth? Lure people here, and either make them into submissive toys, or watch and laugh as they get lost and lose their minds? Sounds like fun. Was I the first? Somehow I doubt it. You got bored, always bored. So you tried something else.

         "You made your Labyrinth a challenge, all right, but not an infallible one. There were creatures there who could help me, and did. If you made this Labyrinth just for me, then why would you let this happen? Because you can give other people anything they want — at least in theory — but you can't do it for yourself. You wanted me to defeat it, because you were tired of living here, alone, with no surprises, no challenges … you could create anything you wanted, control it all, but it bored you. Because after all, you can't make up a real challenge for yourself, can you? Because then, subconsciously, you know what it would take to solve it. It has to come from outside yourself — outside the Labyrinth. That is why you needed me.

         "That first time, with Toby — that was just the first stage of the game, wasn't it? An audition to see whom you would find interesting enough to continue? Is the whole kidnapping-babies thing just a scam to get people into your … casting call? So you could create for them a new Labyrinth, a new and even harder level?"

         Jareth merely tsked. "How cynical, my dear." He did not respond to her theories either in the affirmative or the negative, seeming to dismiss them as an adult would the harmless fantasies of a child. Or the dramatic ravings of a frustrated actress.

         Sarah felt exhilarated now, as though she were acting in a play where the pacing was right on and there was no time to drop a line. "If someone just takes that crystal of yours, if they just give up and take the easy way out, then they're of no use to you. You put them aside while you wait for someone better to show up. And at the same time you fear that new person's coming, because it's a risk, a risk to your kingdom and to your control." Sarah wanted to laugh. She felt safe; it was only a play! Just like the last time. And in this performance, she knew her lines perfectly.

         Jareth was beginning to lose patience. He uncrossed his arms and started to speak, a command, no doubt, on his lips, but Sarah raised her voice and rushed on.

         "If somebody does beat your Labyrinth, then that means they are that challenge, that thing you love and fear beyond all things! And that's the one thing you can't resist; you love it and you fear it, even though it means you are then committed to a path to either complete happiness, or complete destruction!"

         Absolute silence followed this declamation.

         Jareth's icy growl sliced through it. "You know nothing, foolish Sarah. The popular psychology of your world cannot compare to this reality, and you would do better not to meddle in truths of which you know so little."

         "But you want me to meddle, don't you? You chose me because that is my nature! You wanted a challenge! Such self-destructive tendencies, Goblin King. Because you know… you have no power over me!"

         Sarah stood tall within the cold, violent glare of that individual. For a moment she expected him to hit her. She actually welcomed the blow as vindication.

         But instead he laughed. Long and loud, the old sinister laugh she remembered, a hint that something nasty was about to occur. And he turned and walked out of the clearing.

         The shock took a moment to process. Left alone, her bravado failed and she sank to her knees on the hard gravel, cursing herself for a fool.

         It was _not_ a play. And she had just done a very stupid thing.

         She felt the old, familiar shadow grip and succumbed to despair.

         "Myself," she whispered to the rocky plain, "me, I am tired of challenges."


	5. Four

**Four**

         Sarah spent a dark hour there by the meadow before she raised herself up and stumbled on her way. She berated herself as she walked, felt sorrier and stupider with each minute, but she didn't stop moving. It had to be seen through to the end, no matter how much a fool she turned out to be. Even if it killed her. Which it very well might.

         The Labyrinth around her felt like another planet. _Weird, strange, and confusing. What did I see in this place?_ Sarah thought, and then smirked at herself knowingly. She could remember quite well. _God, I was so damned innocent._ An adventure it had been, all right … but a, well, relatively pleasant one. Dangerous, yes, and she could still recall the cold ache of the fear of losing Toby, but at the same time … she had enjoyed herself. There had been something cartoonish about the whole setup. There were friends. For the most part, her enemies were rather stupid and easily defeated. And … this part came as a surprise to her … she had had … no peers. No competition. She was the only girl (well, human one, anyway) that she had met on her travels, and it pleased her to be thought of as unparalleled … it made her feel special … extraordinary. Exotic. Beautiful.

         Then there had been the ballroom. She had nearly forgotten that.

         Elsewhere in the Labyrinth, all the men were silly goblins or the harmless-grandfather type, friendly and gruff and absentminded; all the women were withered crones. None of them were threats to her; they didn't even seem to be physical in the same way that she was. But in that ballroom … Her skin crawled, remembering: the lewd stares, the too-revealing costumes, the jokes that she couldn't hear but knew were too nasty for her to even really understand. It was the only place that she had felt truly frightened in a way that was alien to the adventure … the danger to her was not the black and white of right or wrong, life or death, Toby or no Toby; it was a more sickening, subversive sort of fear. As though it were not really herself that was in danger, but some sort of _idea_ of herself.

         She remembered swirling in the arms of the Goblin King and how she had expected it to be the night of her dreams. But it _hadn't_ been. Not at all.

         It was easy to get to the castle this time. When Sarah walked out from the trees, there it was before her, shining red in a setting sun. There was no junkyard, no goblin city in its way; nothing to keep her from walking across the bare, wild plain and right up to its heavy doors.

         Crimson grass stretched out before her, waving in a slight breeze. Patterns of sunlight shifted and danced within it as they had back in the clearing. From the castle she thought she heard faint strains of music.

         She sighed deeply. _Let's get this over with._

         Nothing else moved over the darkening red plain but the wind, and that was growing faint with the onset of the night.

         The massive doors were unbolted but very, very heavy. She struggled to push one open far enough to slip through.

         The foyer was empty. No goblins, no guards. No random animals. No stolen babies. _Nothing._ It was finally starting to get to her. Especially when mixed with her memories of the last time she'd been here, and the faint echo of a plaintive promise, _"Should you need us …"_

         She trudged up the steps that led to the throne room, letting her feet lead the way as she looked about her surroundings with wary, narrowed eyes. She had no expectations, though; not really.

         The throne room that had been a filthy mess before was now immaculate, the stone gleaming, the central recess filled with silken pillows. The throne itself shone like a star behind its occupant, a long-legged figure striking a languid, but studied, pose.

         "So," he remarked. "You've come."

         And he leaned forward, as if to ask, now what you do?

         She stifled the urge to ask if she'd won. She now knew it wouldn't be that easy.

         So instead she just drew in a deep breath and asked, "You hungry? I'm starved."

         He grinned. "So am I."

         Standing, he continued. "I am sure you would wish to freshen up, make a change of clothing. Come now; just let my goblin laundresses take care of those for you. You can don them again straightaway."

         She looked at him. His mouth was curled in an enigmatic smile. She didn't know for certain, but she sensed perfectly well that there were no such entities here at the castle, just as there had been no guards, no servants, no minions of any kind.

         But she succumbed … she really did long to get out of her old clothes. Despite her efforts to clean them in the stream back at the clearing, after being drenched with old river mud, caked by the cool breezes of the plain, then baked by the fierce sun during her journey this afternoon, her old jeans and shirt had reached the point where they could stand by themselves. But of course, then there was the matter of what to wear while they were being cleaned...

         So she reluctantly let him whip out for her from one of his crystals a long, green silk gown … a surprisingly plain, unfussy one. Considering the goblin king's own particularly flamboyant style, she had been expecting something a little beyond her power to adequately wear, but this dress was actually quite uncomplicated, perfect for her currently unfocused state of mind. She let him lead her to a bath chamber with a hot bath waiting in it, where he quite properly shut the door and left her be. She spent a wild minute convincing herself he was somehow watching her surreptitiously from somewhere, but then decided that she didn't even care … she wanted that bath too badly.

         She shed her clothes, and with them the last of her hesitation. She enjoyed her bath, thinking of nothing, and finally emerged, clean again and clothed in green, in the throne room.

         The change of clothes, more than anything else, made her feel like a different person. The curtain was in front of her, ready to rise on the final act. She felt numb, but at the same time she tingled; finally, an end to this.

         Only then did it occur to her that if he could create a dress for her out of thin air, he could probably have re-produced her own clothes, clean and fresh again, the very same way.

         Jareth was arrayed in splendid form, of course, in an ankle-length coat and hair akimbo. It would not have worked anywhere on earth, except perhaps in a movie or, of course, a play, but here it somehow seemed to fit the castle, the guttering candles and the long, fully prepared dining table. He looked as natural a part of the setting as the stone walls that surrounded him.

         She, meanwhile, inexplicably, still felt the touch of the wind in her hair.

         They ate in silence, Sarah making no fuss about accepting his food or his hospitality, since she was actually quite ravenous, having ingested nothing but water for at least two nights and a day. She even drank the wine that stood by her plate in a calm crystal goblet without hesitation. Whatever would happen, would happen. No use trying to predict it … or control it.


	6. Five

**Five**

         They ended up in a sort of drawing room, by a tremendous fire that produced no smoke. Each occupied a bizarre specimen of chair; Jareth's was curled and carved, of course, and as high as a throne; Sarah's was small and so plush she could barely stay on the seat. Each nursed a glass of wine and stared into the fire. To Sarah, it was all so benign and domestic, it was nearly ludicrous. _All this time and trouble, and we have nothing to say to each another?_

         Everything in the room was ancient, decadent, charged with power. It called to her, subliminally, appealing to the drama she had buried deep within her soul. She had always dreamed of being surrounded by such magic. She could almost envision herself living here. _If he knew that, he would probably offer it in that crystal of his,_ Sarah thought. _And I might even accept._ She stared vacantly into the blue heart of the blaze. Its wavering glimmer curved through the air before her as though reflecting a sphere of smooth crystal. 

         And suddenly, in the midst of the comfortable surroundings, blanketed in a cozy, fiery glow, she had an overwhelming vision of this same castle, ruined, and Jareth, pale and defeated, disappearing into nothingness as his promised crystal of dreams disintegrated at her touch. 

         _And if I did, I would probably go mad … or worse._

         Sarah rested her head on the back of the chair. Why hadn't she realized it before? It was quite a neat snare. Dreams seem so pure and bright on the surface, but she knew well that many, if dwelt upon too long, too shallowly, could become hollow and seedy … reveal themselves for the unrealities, the frail bubbles they were. She thought of the ballroom, of the mysterious men and women who had so unsettled her in their debauched elegance. Had they been dreamers once? Perhaps those dancers were the ones who had taken Jareth up on his offer, unconscious of the corruption within it. But capitulation made them unworthy of interest, so he simply set them aside in the ballroom for his own amusement, all the while pretending to grant their own.

         Or perhaps he _did_ grant it. They got to live their fantasies … but were they ever really aware of what their fantasies truly were?

         Jareth stepped in front of her view, hands behind his back, facing the fire. His impossible clothes gleamed orange and crimson. Sarah rose and walked steadily to his side.

         "Thank you for the dinner."

         He was silent, but inclined his head slightly. A moment later came the dry comment: "I can tell you have more to say."

         "Has anyone else ever come to your castle?"

         He directed a sardonic smile into the fireplace. "Only when I choose."

         She swallowed. "Why did you choose me?"

         Jareth stood back and faced her for the first time. His eyes glittered in the firelight. "Why, Sarah? Isn't it obvious? You were the only one who ever made it through the Labyrinth. The only one able to resist the illusions I threw at you and accomplish what you set out to do." He looked away. "The average petitioner does not have the fortitude to face that which is beyond their understanding. Most break early.

         "But you …" He broke off, suddenly staring at her with an intensity that she had always read about in novels with envy, but never expected to experience in real life. It lasted quite a while, and it was not so pleasant as she had hoped.

         He picked up as though he had never paused. "You were the only one whose will and strength approached my own. Yes, you did defeat the Labyrinth." His gaze turned steely. "However, my dear, whatever you may have believed … you did not defeat _me._"

         "Who said I _had_ to?" she asked innocently.

         Elegant eyebrows arched as he studied her.

         "You said that to get my brother back, I had to solve the Labyrinth. And you just admitted that I did exactly that. And I got Toby back, safe and sound." It hurt her to say that, but after all, he didn't know the truth. "So why should I care if I defeated you? I didn't need to. It wasn't part of the game."

         "Ah, but Sarah," he smiled, "there is much more to the Labyrinth than you think. I concede that you indeed found a path through my puzzle. However … you did not _solve_ it."

         "But why should I care now?"

         "Sarah …" She felt the barest touch of his hand suddenly, on her arm, and it was terribly distracting. "Did you feel then … do you feel now … that there was something in your life left unfinished? Something that you glimpsed, but never fully understood? Longed to understand?"

         "I was fifteen. I had a lot of silly dreams."

         "And I offered them all to you, but you declined. You felt that you could achieve your dreams on your own. Did you, Sarah?"

         She stiffened. "I did just fine."

         "And you never regretted your choice?"

         She was silent a long moment as his eyes burned in the dim room. She simply didn't know the answer to give him.

         "You have known pain, I can tell," he said tenderly, a long finger stroking her cheek. "And sorrow. But what of joy? Excitement? … Love?"

         His touch unsettled her, and she stepped back as the reply leaped out involuntarily. "Of course I have!"

         "Of course. Perhaps Jonathan? What of Eric?" He seemed to glare at her. "What of Michael?"

         Truly surprised to hear the names, she suppressed a sudden, violent ache. She beat it back with sheer force. "What of them?"

         "Were they what you were searching for?"

         "They were only … boyfriends."

         "All of them?"

         "Yes."

         He grinned his feral grin. And this time Sarah saw something strange there that swept the names and the memories they had invoked right out of her mind.

         The experiences she had had were with pleasant men, boys, really; kind and sweet and safe. The man before her was reckless, powerful, magical. He was cruel, capricious … she still feared him. But now she realized that even more than she feared the man himself … his temper, his whims, his power … she feared the essence of what he _was_. Jareth embodied a great, fathomless Unknown. And for the first time, in the strength of his gaze and the touch of his skin, she felt not a threat, not a challenge, not a barrier … but rather … an invitation.

         Again she envisioned the crystal ballroom, but no longer as she had before, full with the knowledge of hindsight. Unbidden, the memory poured into her senses exactly as she had entered it that momentary night, the room glittering and sparkling with exotic, forbidden delights, and herself blissfully unaware of her own naiveté.

         He strode toward her. Still caught up in her vision, she couldn't help it. She had always loved men who _strode._

         "There is something within you, Sarah, a longing, a yearning … but I can make you whole."

         Delicately, he threaded his long fingers into the dark silk of her hair. It made her remember the wind on the plain … He was so gentle that it hurt. She shouldn't let him...

         Jareth's fingertips brushed her skin, which quivered in response. He was looking down at her, his hair tumbling around their faces, cutting them off from the room, the world around them. Strands of it brushed her eyelashes. His coat swirled about their feet. The soft, deep sibilance of his whisper was barely audible; no, it was in her mind completely...

         "Don't be frightened, Sarah …"

         His fingers trailed down the center of her back, rippling the silk into waves of electricity. The veins of his arms pulsed as his arms tightened around her, twined around her waist, her back. He seemed impossibly strong, impossibly masculine. Their lips moved closer. Sarah's eyes were wide and soft as she looked into his, deep, unfathomable; they went down and down and she could see nothing reflected there, not even the fluttering firelight dimming around them. She could feel his embrace tighten, feel every inch of him that pressed against her body like a living fire … and she couldn't look away from the eyes that were so deep and dark, as though they were doors, holes in a cloudless night sky leading to another world altogether.

         And he was everywhere around her … pulling her through.

         She struggled within his embrace, but he would not loosen his grasp … it tightened still further. "No, Sarah, don't," he whispered, coaxing, persuading, in a voice of velvet. "Let yourself go. Let me …" His fingers dug almost imperceptibly but firmly into her muscles, willing them to relax at the forcing strain, but she managed with a great bruising lunge to twist herself away.

         He stood back, rigid. "I did not mean to hurt you, Sarah."

         "It's not …" _Was it?_ " … I …"

         She suddenly remembered a line from her Labyrinth book.

         _The king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl … _

         No. Surely not. It was just another trick.

         Jareth drew near her again, but his manner had altered. An ugly gleam now sparked in his narrowed eyes. He paced around her menacingly as she stood rooted to the marble floor, his sidelong gaze never leaving her face. The steps echoed in the empty hall, and the fire had nearly burned out. Once again the ballroom had shattered, but this time Sarah remained to face Jareth's anger. She couldn't stop shaking, and she cursed herself for it.

         The footsteps stopped behind her. "Poor Sarah," she heard. "You still fear me." And there was a long interval of silence. She could hear him breathing, slowly and evenly. It struck her that she had could not remember ever hearing him _breathe_ before.

         Then with a start she felt his breath along her throat. "What happened to your love of life?" he hissed, a little too near her ear. "Where is that spirited girl who faced me down all those years ago, risking her very dreams in order to regain them? You had no fear then, Sarah. You thought you had conquered it." He stepped back and his next words fell upon her like cruel physical blows. "How much did it hurt when you realized you were wrong?"

         With that all the pain she had ever known hit her at once like a torrent.

         Birthdays and Christmases when the long-awaited calls from her mother never came.

         The distant look in Michael's eyes as he called off the engagement.

         The policeman's hollow voice on the telephone repeating that no one had survived.

         "If I had kept him, he would be alive."

         She faced him, her eyes utterly blank.

         "He would be alive, and you would be as joyful and spirited as you were all those years ago. Your world is cruel, Sarah. But I could have made you all happy, had you let me."

         She wanted to say, tried to say, Would that have made my father and stepmother happy, your keeping him? But she kept envisioning the funeral, the three caskets, the three pits lined up in the deep, black earth.

         In the end, it hadn't mattered. None of it.

         "You are lying," she whispered, damning the quiver in her voice. "You are lying."

         "Then you prefer your life the way it is? A hollow shell of an existence, devoid of dreams?"

         "Stop."

         "Your family dead, your life in ruins, and you couldn't handle it. I expected better from you, Sarah."

         "Stop!"

         "You wanted your world, and so you have it. See what it has done to you."

         _"Stop it, damn you!"_

         His voice was bitterly cold. "Truth hurts, little girl."

         With that she screamed, as she had never knew she could. It was a roar of pure fury and helplessness, and the castle itself trembled. The last thing she saw, though she never even recognized that she saw it, was the astonishment on his face.

         She couldn't remember how she had gotten out of that room, or through which rooms of the castle she had blindly stumbled in her desperate flight to get as far away from him as possible. It wasn't until much later that the sobs quieted and she found herself lying near a bench in a cold night garden.

         Her mind felt dull and burned. He had been right. He had been _right._ He had made her trust him, then flung her failures back in her face, forced her to face the miserable person she had become. She shrank from the memory, and she flung herself into her wretchedness, longing for the oblivion of despair that she knew was coming next. Wishing curses upon herself, Sarah waited to sink into hopelessness. There she could hide from it all. Be dead from it all.

         Forced to surface through layered years of carefully honed self-torment, the thought came slowly, like a revelation.

         _But … I can't._

         She felt shame, anger, regret. But no hate. She didn't hate herself.

         She had almost forgotten what that was like.

         Sarah sat up and leaned her back against the cold stone of the bench. Its chill surface, seeping through the thin fabric, stirred her blood to warmth and life. She remembered Jareth's cold words, and though they stung, now she did not flinch. Yes, he _had_ been right. She had been weak. And she had fled from that weakness. She was still weak … she knew that. But now, although the pain still chilled her, she could see through it, over it. For the first time, her grief had boundaries, it had walls that could be climbed and conquered. And she realized, with a shock, that she owed that to him.

         Jareth had known her weaknesses. He had pointed out to her what she knew the whole time. He had known just how she felt, and just how to use it to his advantage.

         He had _known._

         She stood in the silent grass and breathed the moonlight that glittered on the emerald silk she wore. The dress. The dress was part of his plan. He knew her, knew how she could use it to hide, to play along with him. She had been right, after all. It was all a play. 

         The ballroom dancers floated across her mind in a dream of light and music.

         _Were they ever really aware of what their fantasies truly were?_

         It was time, time at last, for the final curtain. And for the first time in eight years, she knew what to do next.


	7. Six

**Six**

         He _would_ be in the Escher room. Sarah caught her breath as she entered … no matter how dire the circumstance, the sight would forever amaze her.

         He was standing by a window on the far side of the room, upside down, staring out over the darkened plain. There were no stars. He heard Sarah enter, and turned to face her expectantly.

         "I want to know what you want," she said. " I want to know why you know so much about me. I demand to know what is going on."

         "_Demand,_ you say?"

         "Yes. Demand. We've been through the power issue, Jareth. You can't intimidate me any more. So you'd better tell me what I want to know."

         "Or?"

         "Or I will defeat you as I did the last time. Which I _did_ do."

         "And how will you do that, pray?"

         She bluffed admirably. "You don't want to find out."

         He chuckled. "Very well then, my dear. I will tell you what you want to know. No, better: I will _show_ you."

         She had never really thought he would hurt her. As a result, when Jareth unleashed his full powers upon her, Sarah was badly unprepared.

         The shock knocked her several feet through the air and to the ground. Suddenly, voices raged through her mind, and thoughts that were not her own pounded at her skull. A babble of ideas rushed at her from every side, oppressing her. The voices screamed obscenities and gabbled nonsense and cried for help in pure, cold fear. She struggled under the onslaught, hands to her head, her body aching as she laboriously rose to her feet and struggled to speak.

         _"Coward,"_ Sarah spat, carefully, toward the distant window. "So, you fall back on your tricks!"

         "These are not tricks, my dear," she heard him drawl, through the swirl; he suddenly stood right in front of her. "This is myself. This is truth. I am everywhere, everything here. The Labyrinth _is_ me." His voice dripped with sarcastic disappointment. "Apparently you are simply not as equipped to handle the truth as you believed yourself to be." 

**GO HOME! PLAY WITH YOUR TOYS, YOUR COSTUMES!** The voices screamed. 

         And above it all, Jareth's voice: 

                           _such a pity … _

         _No!_ Desperation rose up in her at his tone of dismissal. She lashed out and caught his arm, breathing hard with rage and pain. "This … is … _not_ … the end!"

         Jareth looked down at her hand, surprise in his expression. And something else. Satisfaction. As her fingernails dug into his flesh, he dared her to stop him. And she had seen it before.

         _Just there … an elegant figure, stepping in and out of her sight as she chased him across the ballroom. Grinning with pride and pleasure in his own game._

_         As she … chased him … _

         Something clicked into place. Instantly she dropped his arm. His eyes narrowed. The voices screamed his thoughts. 

**I CAN BE CRUEL … I HAVE BEEN GENEROUS, UP TILL NOW, BUT I CAN BE CRUEL ...**

         "This is your game, isn't it?" she gasped. "It isn't enough to have the challenge. You have to win it. Destroy your opponent."

         _No stars to the west._

_         It looks just like a black hole in the sky._

_         Waiting … for something to wander into it … _

         "My dear Sarah, you are delirious."

         "Shut the hell _up!_" she screamed. "I refuse to listen to your lies any longer. This whole thing, this whole place, _you,_ it's all just a trap! To feed your glorious, insatiable hunger, for … for what?! Power? Lust? Do you even know?"

         He seemed as tall as a mountain on a vast, starry plain. "You dare to say such things, when everything I have done, everything this place _is,_ has been done for you?"

         His glare was fierce. The echoes of his remembered words rebounded in her skull. **TURNED THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN … I HAVE TURNED THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN AND I HAVE DONE IT ALL FOR YOU … FOR YOU!**

                           _and I am exhausted … _

         Sarah grimaced with the strain. "The Labyrinth conforms to my wishes because that is the … nature of your trap. This place is built on desires, all right … yours."

         "You do not know what you are saying."

         "_Don't_ I?"

         "It hurts me to pain you, Sarah …"

         "Like … _hell_ it does!"

         "But you refuse to see me. I made this for you! It is all for you. I found out what you wanted, and I made it!"

         " … a trap …"

         "No! It is a haven, a beautiful place! Is it not what you wanted?"

         "It is a _lie_!"

         Sarah hurtled through empty space. He had lashed out at her with his magic, throwing her several yards across the room and nearly tumbling her off her current plane into the deadly limbo of the center of the hall. She lunged out and caught the edge of a staircase that led sideways, arresting her flight with a violent lurch, and dragged herself onto the landing to a more secure position. Somehow, she was still on the same level as Jareth.

         But the Goblin King did not even realize what he had done. She had never heard him so enraged. "What _more_ can I give you, Sarah? What more can you ask that I have not done?" She opened her mouth, but he was not listening. "What more do you _want_? All I wanted was for you to stay here, with me!"

         Through the pain, Sarah stared at this man before her, even now still a tall, black apparition of power and sensuality. But the long pale hair swirled about a thin, drawn face; his skin was flushed, his veins crimson. He loomed over her, hard and menacing, and she expected at any moment the blow that would take her life. She saw him struggle, saw the great forearms and long, thin fingers flex as he gripped them into fists.

         He was still holding the dream crystal. Under the force of his grip, it shattered into a thousand pieces.

         The shards vanished into the air instantly, like fragments of a harmless soap bubble. But jagged rents sprang from his palm, and dark red blood began to flow down his wrist. He paid it no heed, letting it drip from his upraised fist to the cold stone floor. He did not remove his eyes from her face.

         She felt the blood on her own fingers even before she looked down to see it.

         _Wait. He knows everything. _

         _But _how _does he know?_

         Jareth's eyes were no longer in shadow. But in a jolt of terror she wished they were … for they were completely, utterly dead. And they were fixed, resolutely, upon her own. And finally she understood.

         _You are no longer a child. You have learned that to have happiness, you can't simply assume it will come to you and stay forever. If ever you are fortunate enough to come across it, you must grab on to it, and never let it out of your grasp._

         The ball was finally over; the masks had been removed.

         "Then it was not revenge you wanted." Sarah was calmer now; the rage had turned to ice, coursing through her body, freezing her from the inside out. She rose, fixing him with a resolute stare, and the babbling voices began to dull slightly. "How long have you been feeding off me?"

         He was visibly struggling to regain his composure. The blood was gone, as if it had never been, but his cold sneer seemed forced. "Such crude imagery."

         "It is apparently _true._ How long, Jareth? How long does it take to get your powers back?"

         "Sarah …"

         "Hoggle, and Ludo, and everybody … they were the first to go, weren't they? A drain on your abilities, a risk that had proved too dangerous in the past?"

         "It is not like …"

         "For God's sake, would you just answer _one_ question I ask!"

         Jareth's face was ashen, his voice growing frantic. "I granted every wish you asked of me …"

         "At quite a price."

         "I don't offer that to just anyone!"

         The voices escalated to a shriek. Sarah gripped her head. **ANY ONE NO ONE I MOVE THE STARS FOR NO ONE NO ONE NO STARS NO STARS IN THE WEST...**

         Jareth's voice was also a shriek, its cultured smoothness shattered and distorted. "I did everything you wanted! I was everything you desired!"

         With a herculean effort she burst through his litany. "You _used_ me!"

         "I _loved_ you!" he screamed, and his voice was terrible to hear. "I loved you, and you rejected me!"

         "You loved me enough to take away everyone that I loved, even to _murder_ them … damn you, you _bastard!_ Just so you would be the only one I had left. Just to break me, so I would come running to you when you called! Then you could control me, possess me, _rule_ me!"

         Her voice was a now as dangerous and determined as a flame. "You destroyed my life to make yourself whole again. That is not love. You _can't_ love! You don't know what it means! Your Labyrinth … and you … are nothing but a false … cheap … _illusion!_"

         Jareth's voice became an unimaginable shriek. Somewhere within it was her name. Voices and music and visions ripped through her mind. It was almost beautiful in its sheer chaos. But she felt only … 

         … pity.

         _She_ was the Unknown.

         _You really don't understand, do you?_

**I WILL BE YOUR SLAVE … JUST FEAR ME! LOVE ME! LOVE ME, DAMN YOU!**

**              FEAR ME!**

_                           love me … _

         She fought through the distraction, the pain, the beauty, the longing, the magic.__

         She spoke the question that would answer everything.

         "Who are you really?"

         There was just one voice in her mind, distant as though welling up through worlds of space and time. 

         _Darkness cannot love light. A cruel paradox. They cannot be separated … yet they cannot be one, for then neither would be anything at all. Every night has a day, but there is always a morning, an evening, a moment where one must die so that the other might be born._

         _I, my dearest, am the lie that coveted the truth. Desired the truth, and tried to deceive it. But it cannot be. You have discovered me, and I cannot live within you..._

         _So it is morning, and it is time for me to die._


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

         _Where am I now?_

         It was midnight black all around; she couldn't even see herself.

         _I'm dead._

         She heard, no, sensed, the rustle of tall grasses on an infinite plain.

         Time passed.

         She felt no sadness at the loss of the Labyrinth. It had never truly been real. Had it? But it didn't matter now. She couldn't go there again. She didn't want to go there again. An illusion, built on the blood of her innocent past, papered with her broken dreams. It held no meaning for her now.

         She clutched at her shoulders, an old, familiar, fearful reflex. So what now? Back home, to a world full of loss and regret, a reality with even less meaning than Jareth's cage? She felt her heart twist in dread as it had many times before … and yet … The habitual reaction now seemed hollow. That world seemed distant, fading more with every moment. Had any of it, that feeling, been truly real? Was it all … him?

         He was gone, too. He had destroyed her family, her dreams, her very self. He had controlled her fate for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to be free. Yet she found that she held no hate. It all seemed to have happened long ago.

         She felt like she was being slowly reborn. She was here at the dawn of time, in the solace land. No expectations, no constrictions; no pre-built fantasy world with its storybook conventions. No cold, empty apartments in which to hide away from her life; no sorrow, no regret. She knew that she would not miss them.

         She became aware that there was a new feeling in her mind, a sensation she hadn't experienced for years … a sense of possibility, a wild freedom. She could even see it … A pinpoint of a glow appeared before her, far in the distance, and it was as though everything was suddenly clear in her mind. She could even begin to see around herself, too. Her fingertips shimmered where she had wiped tears away. She hadn't even realized she had been crying.

         The first time she was here, she had welcomed the dark land as a cool contrast from her glaring, too-bright world. Now the dark was oppressive … and this light a salvation. In it Sarah saw six-year-old Toby's laughing face. Her stepmother's proud smile when she graduated from high school. And her father's chin, from below, looking up at the stars. It did matter, after all. Those eight years did matter, and all the ones that preceded it, and all the ones that would follow. They always would.

         Just as darkness balances light, so does light balance darkness.

         The slightest hint of a warm wind.

         _Then this truly is a Crossroads._

_         Jareth would have had me believe that it led only to his Labyrinth._

_         Let's see where else it goes._


End file.
